


The Life and Times of Two Werewolf Revolutionaries

by EmeraldSage



Series: Juxtaposition [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Daily Life Stories, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Drabbles, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Werewolves, relationship dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:30:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10079561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: Series of side stories about the daily life of Ivan and Alfred.  Set in the Werewolf AU series "Juxtaposition"





	1. After the Mating

**Author's Note:**

> Because this hit me at 2am and I just *had* to write it. Given that most of "Juxtaposition" is pretty serious and grounded in societal issues, I found some of the drabbles I'm writing to be kinda entertaining. Oh well. Tell me what you think please!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter starts out kind of serious but ends up making you either smile or laugh. (or wince in sympathy, who knows?)

            The after-race celebrations were a trial and a half to go through, and he felt his smile straining constantly as they went on. The pain in his ass was a constant, rhythmic throbbing that echoed all across his body, which, ironically, made it easier to ignore. The expression on his face – frigid politeness to all his well wishers, sadistic amusement towards all the dominants who’d sworn to catch him but left the forest without even coming close, a concealed mix of pity and frustration towards all the submissives who’d run with him – never faltered. The breeze picked up maybe an hour in, but Ivan was a solid presence at his side, and the warmth the other wolf was giving off on the moon-bright, frigid solstice night made him lean a little closer to the dominant as they made their way through the packs.

            His family had found them not long into the celebrations, his father appraising the violet-eyed dominant as his _papa_ embraced the newly mated couple with fervor and joyous exclamations. His brother was here – thankfully without the presence of his mate, who taunted him relentlessly – and his wan smile told him exactly how Matthew was feeling about his little brother being mated against his will. Matt, after all, hadn’t been told of his inclusion in the race until after it had already commenced.

            Everyone in the region knew of his brother’s overprotectiveness. It didn’t stop a lot of determined dominants, but it did give many pause.

            He glanced over at the dominant who was eyeing his brother curiously, before he huffed. He was almost positive that Ivan hadn’t even factored Matt into the equation.

            Matt drew him away from their parents, who were subtly interrogating Ivan – or as subtle as the pair of them could manage (meaning not at all) – and looked at him in askance. “I thought you’d outrun them all,” he murmured.

            He huffed, “He found me in minutes, Mattie. He knew exactly where he was going.” His brother’s brows rose, surprised but no less impressed by that. And it _was_ impressive, even if the shinny new mating mark he was trying to ignore was on _his_ body. He couldn’t ignore the fact that, even in a scent dampened forest, Ivan had tracked him within minutes and bolted straight towards him.

            His brother hummed, sliding an arm around his shoulders and allowing him to lean on the other without making it obvious. He sighed softly in the slight relief it offered him. “Anything else I should know about my new brother-in-law?” the elder blond asked, and Alfred glanced over to his new mate again, glancing back when he realized that Ivan was watching him as his parents had devolved into fighting again. Matt tugged him around a bit, so he wasn’t facing his mate, and Alfred sighed.

            “He challenged me, Mattie,” he whispered, barely audible amongst the sounds all around them. He wasn’t sure if Ivan could hear him, but to be honest, it wasn’t something he cared all too much about right now. What held his focus was the way his brother stiffened, glancing back towards the violet-eyed wolf before refocusing on Alfred.

            “You fought?” he asked, studying the submissive again, more critically, taking in signs of wear and wounds most had probably dismissed as a result of the mating. No one would doubt that any dominant who tried to mate the blond submissive would have to be very aggressive.

            Alfred nodded, slumping a little more into his brother’s half-hug to take some more of the weight off of his own stance. There was still pain shooting up his spinal cord, but it was easing now. Matt’s lips quirked when he heard the soft sigh, even as his nose scrunched up in typical sibling disgust. “He beat you, obviously. How was it?”

            “MATT!” he yelped in outrage, tackling his cackling brother to the ground, intent on kicking the shit out of his no-good excuse of a big brother, when arms wrapped around his waist and hauled him away from the lemon-blond. He glanced back, irritated, only to bite back a curse when he was faced with his mate’s amused grin.

            _Damn it_ , _he heard us._

            He was going to _murder_ his brother.

* * *

           Despite letting his mate stand strong and as independent as a mated submissive werewolf could be in front of the elders and the rest of the packs in attendance, the moment they’d gotten far enough from the gathering and near enough to Ivan’s den, he’d whisked Alfred into his arms, paying no heed to the vicious protests that followed the movement.

            The tradition of carrying their mates over the threshold of the den was a human tradition, but he felt it applied here nonetheless.

            He didn’t put the younger blond down, though. He kicked the door shut, knowing it would lock on its own, and moved silently through the living spaces until he reached the sanctuary of his own room, hidden only by a curtain he’d strung up in the space where a door would’ve been. He smiled, even as his mate stilled, taking in the room he’d redecorated over the last few weeks, knowing he’d be coming home with a mate.

            _With Alfred_. With the blond firecracker who could beat the shit out of any dominant worth their salt on this side of the country. With the fiery young wolf who’d promised him _all_ _of him_ only if he’d give the same in return.

            He set his mate down on the bed, turning to strip down, before glancing over his shoulder to see a brief flash of uncertainty cross the younger wolf’s face alongside the deep seated weariness. But even if it made his heart soften slightly, his mate wasn’t getting out of what was to come. He’d given the devious young wolf all the restraint that could’ve been asked of him, especially on their mating night. He had none left to spare. Despite letting his mate assert himself in front of the elders, he would make it very clear that there were some things that would never change. Chief among those was a very simple fact.

            Ivan was now Alfred's dominant mate. And as such, there were things he would expect if his mate, regardless of how atypical a submissive the other was.

            This was one of them.

            Alfred stared at him, challengingly, but bit his lip and tilted his head to the side, just a bit. Just enough to bare a sliver of that smooth, unmarked throat to the dominant wolf, whose inner beast rumbled, only slightly appeased.

            Perhaps, he thought, he had not left enough marks. That neck was bare of markings, save one, as he had taken his mate's wishes into account and been conservative in his initial claiming. His mate promised him that once they'd reached the sanctuary of their den, where no one would visit for another week at the least, he could have him as he pleased. Encouraged by his mate's rather enticing promise - and having no desire to repeatedly coax the wily submissive to his bed during their 'honeymoon' of sorts - he'd gone easy on his mate. He’d even restrained his desire, and though the initial mating was rough – rougher than most submissives had to deal with – his mate had still been able to walk under his own power. The only obvious mark laid in the other's flesh was the mating bite, which was colored a deep, punishing violet, and nearly hidden by the t-shirt’s collar.

            He would remedy that now.

* * *

           “ _You_ ,” his mate gasped, exhausted, “are _such_ an _asshole_!” Although, the strength of the blue-eyed wolf’s accusation was belayed by the way he curled up mid-sentence to push the pain away, looking more pitiful than wrathful, Ivan nodded and attempted to look appropriately chastised.

            Attempted to, being the key, as the slow-forming smirk on his face belayed his amusement at his mate’s proclamation.

            “You can at least try to _look_ like you’re sorry!” Alfred barked, glaring, before he squeaked, as Ivan plucked him from the nest of sheets and settled him into his arms. “Ack, put me down!”

            The violet eyed dominant looked down into furious, frustrated blue, and at the flush slowly climbing up the younger’s neck, and smirked. “As you wish.” And plopped the younger wolf, still completely naked, onto one of the solid wooden dining chairs in the dining space. Alfred twitched at the abrupt movement, before his face twisted in pain.

            “ _You_ ,” this time Alfred's tone was pointed, firm, but pained, “are a _sadist_ ,” and the submissive let his head drop into his arms on the table top as he tried to contain the whimper of pain the jarring movement had caused him. Ivan almost wanted to contest the label his new mate had given him, but bit back the words as he considered it.

            He wasn’t a _complete_ sadist though. He’d plopped him on the chair with a pillow.


	2. Buses, Backpacks, and Building Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alfred's a college student, and Ivan hates mornings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a mostly lighthearted piece with a tinge of seriousness towards the end that surprised me when it came out, followed by humor :)

            There was a noise disturbing him.

            His nose scrunched up in annoyance as a loud, alarm-like sound threatened to drag him from his deep, much-appreciated slumber. It wasn’t right next to him, that much he could tell. It seemed like it was coming from his mate’s nightstand, but that couldn’t be possible. In the few weeks it had been since their mating, he’d found out that his mate loved sleep more than Ivan himself did. The last time he’d had to wake his mate before he woke on his own, the blue-eyed wolf had nearly strangled him with the blanket.

            _BEEP. BEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEEEP._

            Curse that _damned racket-!_ He rolled atop his sleeping mate, not even noticing or caring that the younger had jerked awake with a yelp, and reached over to the nightstand. There was a loud crunch, a faint, _be-ep_ that warbled sadly from the mysterious device, and he sighed in relief, slumping down to the bed, intent on getting his rest.

            Until he was, quite literally, shoved from the bed, hitting the floor with jarring force. His eyes snapped open and he snarled, even as he tried to reorient himself.

            How did he get on the floor?

            “ _Asshole_ ,” he heard his mate slur, sleep blurring his words even as the younger wolf pushed himself from the bed, glaring at the violet-eyed dominant.

            _Oh_. _That’s why._

            He shook off his disorientation, ready to push himself from the floor and demand an explanation from his mate, when he caught sight of the window, curtains drawn. He gaped, almost slumping back to his prone position when he realized what he was seeing.

            It wasn’t even _dawn!_ Why in the name of the _moon_ was his mate awake right now?

            He hadn’t realized that he’d said it out loud until his mate raised a brow at him over his shoulder, pulling something violently from inside the wardrobe in the process.

            “I’ll be late if I don’t get going,” he said, as if that explained everything, and moved towards the dresser,

            “Late for what?” the elder wolf said absently, eyes fixating on the sight he’d been presented with. Even wearing pajama bottoms, he could see the enticing curve of his mate’s rear end. It was such a pity that he was so far away, he’d love to just _reach_ …

            Alfred abruptly stood from where he’d been bent over their dresser, searching for clothes, and Ivan half-mourned the loss of the vision of loveliness he’d been staring at.

            “Did you forget, moron?” his mate half-snarled at him, rolling his eyes, and continued without waiting for an answer, “I’ve got class today.”

            The elder werewolf blinked at his mate. _What?_

            The other ignored the prone wolf on the floor, moving swiftly out of the bedroom, clothes acquired, and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Ivan heard the lock click and knew that he wasn’t welcome to join in the warm shower he could hear his mate starting. He almost pouted, but his mind was still dazed from the collision with the floor and the news his mate had imparted upon him.

            _Classes? He goes to university?_

            Most submissives didn’t. Everyone got their high school degree, or the GED if they couldn’t. But most of them stopped there. Submissives who did try for college often stuck to community college. Some went to state schools, but they were even fewer. And since they often relied on the permission of their dominant to attend university – and almost all submissives were mated at age 18, his own mate included – most couldn’t go further. In fact, many dominants refused to allow their submissives to go to university, preferring them to stay around the pack and in the area. Most submissives didn’t care enough to argue. Of course, his mate would be different.

            Amongst the dominants, most went to at least community college. Some people ended up across the state, or at some other nearby university. Some – though they were rarer – managed to convince enough pack elders that they traveled out of state for school. Those were few and far between, though, and mostly specialists anyways. Ivan had been one of those rare exceptions, as he’d come from Russia to study here in the states. He’d graduated two years ago, and decided that he’d preferred the environment of the states and was accepted into one of the nearby packs.

            His decision didn’t have _anything_ to do with the blond firecracker he’d seen for the first time during his graduation. Nope, nothing _at all_.

            He wondered how he hadn’t picked up on the fact that his mate was in university. He didn’t wonder at all about the fact that his mate hadn’t asked his _permission_ at all. Alfred would scoff if he tried to tell him no, and ignore him if he tried to enforce it, anyways.

            Not that he would discourage his mate from his studies, no, not at all. He was pleasantly surprised about that little detail, and only somewhat worried that his mate hadn’t told him at all.

            He heard the bathroom door unlock, and his mate walked back into the room, fully dressed save his shoes, toweling off his hair. The submissive wolf stopped only a few steps in, and stared at the elder. “Why are you _still_ on the floor?” he demanded, snapping Ivan out of his thoughts. He blinked up at his mate, who snorted, dropping the towel into the laundry hamper next to the door before he moved into the living space, out of Ivan’s line of sight.

            _That_ certainly motivated the violet-eyed dominant to push himself off of the floor. He stomped after his mate, not hesitating for a moment to take in the way Alfred had arched his back to grab something at the back of one of the tallest cupboards (… _well…_ ), and wrapped his arms around his mate, jerking out a yelp from the blue-eyed blond.

            “ _Ivan_ ,” his mate groaned, “I’m going to be _late_.” That blue-eyed frustration turned on him in a split second, and he briefly rethought his decision to corner his mate and demand answers.

            But then again, Alfred would probably pull the same thing when he came home, and Ivan just didn’t want to wake up in the predawn again to corner his mate. No, best get this done now.

            “You didn’t tell me you attended university,” he murmured, voice still rough from sleep, and he almost smirked when he felt the other stiffen as he nuzzled that tanned (marked) neck. “I could’ve used some warning for that alarm of yours,” he added, smiling as some of the tension relaxed.

            “Which you’re replacing, by the way,” his mate groused, and he could practically feel the other rolling his eyes.

            “You’re changing the topic,” he said, raising a brow at the younger, who _almost_ flushed before returning with a _so what of it_ look. “I’d like to know why you didn’t tell me.”

            “It’s not really important,” the blue-eyed teen dismissed, turning back to the coffee mug he’d grabbed from the cupboard and reached for the pot he’d set to brew.

            “It is to me,” he disagreed, and tightened his grip on his mate. The younger wolf sighed loudly. “Tell me about it, Alfred.” There was a moment of silence.

            “Well,” his mate began slowly, “it’s a private university. _Papa_ set aside some money for Mattie and I to go to college, so I use it for tuition and stuff that I can’t get myself. It’s in state, so that helps a lot, too. It’s a few hours drive, though. I generally block my classes together so I only have to go up twice a week, but I’ll be there all day.”

            “You drive yourself?” he demanded, heart racing. His mate was a stunning looking young man with a powerful submissive scent. Even if the highways were filled with mostly humans who would ignore him, the few wolves and the other supernatural folk could cause some trouble if Alfred had been driving on his lonesome.

            Alfred winced, and he got the feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer, “Well…actually, the thing is…”

            “You don’t _drive_ there, do you?” he asked with mounting dread, his eyes narrowing on his suddenly suspiciously quiet mate.

            “…I take the bus,” came the reluctant admission, followed with the hasty, “but I’m of age! I can make my own way around the state! A few transfer stations isn’t much different…”

            “You’re a _submissive werewolf_ ,” he growled in response, and Alfred almost flinched back before he whirled around and started glaring just as intensely, “Even if you _can_ take care of yourself, what would happen if someone snuck up on you? Or if they ganged up on you? Your scent is intoxicating enough, even _mated_. And you’re beautiful, even to humans. I cannot understand how you _haven’t_ been jumped already! Do you expect me to allow you to continue risking yourself like this?! I can’t even imagine how Arthur allowed it -!”

            Oh, _that_ was a face he didn’t like the look of.

            “Do your parents _know_ you take the bus to university _hours away?!_ ”

            “Well…not _really_.”

            “I’m driving you.”

            “ _What?!_ ”

            “I _said_ , I’m driving you.” Ivan paused and looked his mate dead in the eye, wrapping his hands firmly around the younger’s biceps and holding him tight. He _would_ make his point very clear, even if Alfred yelled at him for it. “I have no problem with you attending college. In fact, I encourage it. I don’t even think it should be something I should have a say in _at all_ , given that it’s _your_ education.” Ah, that stunned him, best keep him off guard, “But I _am_ responsible for your safety. I’m your _dominant mate_. And you _risking your safety_ by taking a bus from here, transferring stations in the process, heading upstate for _hours_ in the predawn, and probably after sunset? That is _unacceptable_. If you can find another _safe_ way to get to school, you can tell me to fuck off. But until you do, _I’m driving you_. Or you _will not go_. It’s as simple as that.”

            Ah, his mate was gaping at him now. Truth was, he was a little startled at himself. He never really spoke much, even when he was a child. So the small paragraph he’d just lectured to his mate was probably the most the other had heard him say in one go, even if he really couldn’t help it. He’d wanted to make his point _abundantly_ _clear_. He didn’t normally enforce his rights as the dominant mate, but to keep Alfred safe?

            He would, without hesitation. And Alfred would learn that sooner or later.

            Alfred huffed after a moment of intense silent staring, but there was a slight smile playing on his lips when he opened his mouth to speak, and Ivan felt himself relaxing at the sight of it, “Well,” the younger said, “if you want to drop me off, you’d better get changed quickly. You might have to go without breakfast,” he added warningly as he turned away to start breakfast. Ivan blinked.

            “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he asked, honestly bewildered, and his mate spun around to gape at him. _Before_ the smaller wolf’s fist lashed out and nailed his shoulder with a punishing hit, causing him to yelp.

            “What’s _wrong_?!” he didn’t know his mate could pull off that _I can’t believe you’re **that** much of an idiot_ look, “You’re still _NAKED_ , you idiot!!!!”


	3. For Family & Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Takes place after "Bared")
> 
> It's been a month since the solstice moon, and it was time for Alfred to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the weird title! This kind of has more of a purpose of exposing parts of Matt & Al's relationship. I focused on them more than anything. Sorry it's kinda disjointed!
> 
> There'll probably be another one featuring this week's adventures, but probably not as Chapter 4.

            His eyes narrowed on the taller figure to his side, glaring wordlessly as the other fretted about him. A few hours ago he might have found his mate’s behavior amusing, perhaps even been sympathetic to the elder dominant. In fact, a few hours ago, he _had_ been. But his mate had been fretting and worrying himself into a tizzy, to the point where he was worried Ivan would stalk his parents’ place during the whole week he would be staying there.

            “I have lived there for _eighteen years_ ,” he said through a smile with gritted teeth, but his mate didn’t stop hovering, “I will be _fine_.”

            It had been a month, he thought with no small measure of exasperation, and Ivan’s possessiveness and overprotectiveness hadn’t abated a single bit. They’d had a setback, with what happened a week ago lingering in their minds and influencing how they acted with each other. But he knew their relationship would never grow if he couldn’t learn to step _past_ the incident, even if he would always remain wary of it.

            Regardless, however, the tradition had to be carried out. Every submissive who’d mated the past solstice would be returning to their parents or guardians’ home for a week. It was a way of reassuring the parents of the submissives’ safety and happiness with their “chosen” mate. The timing was specifically set so that dominants had time for their protective and possessive instincts to settle enough that having their mates away for a week wouldn’t set them off.

            Clearly, tradition hadn’t accounted for someone like Ivan.

            He growled, deep, low, and challenging, and felt a hint of relief break through when his mate stopped his fussing, eyes dark and imposing, to stare him down. At least he could count on Ivan’s instincts to react when Ivan himself wouldn’t.

            “I’m going to see my parents,” he said pleasantly, but the fire in his eyes was challenging, “are you going to drive me there, or will I have to go by myself?”

            _Are you going to prove yourself a mature dominant, or are you going to be a fussy child about me leaving?_

            “I suppose,” his mate said, after a few minutes of intense silence, “that you don’t need my help packing.” More silence. “I will wait in the car. Don’t take too long.”

            _Finally_.

* * *

           “ _Arthur_ ,” his _papa_ sighed, exasperated, as they watched the green-eyed werewolf pace the floor. “You need to calm down, _mon lapin_.”

            “Calm down?!” the green-eyed wolf growled as he spun to face them, “How can you expect me to calm down?” Francis sighed, and Matthew sunk deeper into his squish armchair, resting against the back of the chair.

            “Alfred has only been away from a month,” his _papa_ reminded the younger of the mated pair, “and we must trust he has been well. I know others who have seen him in the interim, and most have told me he looks content. And he will be here soon, _cher_. We will see him soon enough.”

            His father looked highly unsatisfied with that explanation and resumed his pacing, but already Matthew could see there was a thread of tension that had relaxed in his shoulders. But even with the tension slowly melting, there was a flicker of worry, and an even tinier flash of guilt that had crossed his father’s face, and he had a feeling he knew why the green-eyed man was so concerned.

            He remembered that conversation, the one he’d accidentally overheard one night, after Alfred’s mating race. Arthur had been _beside_ himself, completely distraught in a way he’d never seen his father before. Francis’s quiet calming was all that was holding his father together.

            _It had been the shouting that had drawn his attention, because unlike his parents normal bickering, this shouting was hysteric, self-condemning, and vicious._

_“I shouldn’t have let them push!” his father shouted hysterically, as he knelt by the door, pressing his ear to the crack to hear clearer, “I should’ve listened to my instincts! I shouldn’t have listened to them, Francis!”_

_His **papa** ’s soothing voice was trying to assuage his father’s hysterics, but it wasn’t working as it usually did. “It was only a matter of time, **cher** ,” the elder wolf pointed out, “you know if he didn’t run this year, they would make him run next summer. And there is an unquestionable danger in letting an unmated, un-tested submissive werewolf run around free, mainly to Alfred himself. He would have no protection from other dominants.”_ _And that’s when Matthew understood._

_“The **look** he gave me, Francis,” his father whispered, and if there was a half-sob hiding behind the words, he couldn’t bring himself to admit it, “He’ll never trust me again.”_

_“He’s **your** son,” Francis chuckled, despite the somber atmosphere, “He’s a stubborn, bold little brat, just like you used to be as a child. Just like you still **are**. Be easy, **mon lapin** , he will forgive you. He **loves** you. It will just take time.”_

            He sighed; this was the _worst_ time for misplaced guilt. Even if said guilt wasn’t exactly misplaced. He’d coaxed the entire story out of his _papa_ after that night, though it had taken considerable time, skill, and charm he hadn’t known he’d possessed. To learn so abruptly that the elders had pressured Arthur to force Alfred into running on the winter solstice – instead of granting him a bye like they would if one of them had asked for it – when they’d _known_ Ivan had been planning on running…it didn’t add up to a very pretty picture. And being offhandedly aware that the elders had conspired together – crotchety old crones – to force his fiery brother’s mating to a dominant whose authority was _unquestionable_ …well, it didn’t put Matthew in a very good mood. At all.

            He sighed again, and bit the next one back so his father wouldn’t turn his worried attention his way. At least Gilbert wasn’t here. On top of his father freaking out, his _papa_ ’s attempts at calming the other, his brother’s naturally dominant personality and his brother’s _ridiculously_ dominant _mate_ …Gilbert’s presence wouldn’t make it as much a train wreck as a chemical explosion.

            “What if he’s hurt?” his father blurted suddenly, turning to face the both of them with badly hidden distress, “We can’t _do_ anything! I haven’t seen my baby in _a month_ , and the last time I tried to ask Ivan, he ran away from me! _Him!_ ”

            _Oh,_ he remembered _that_ particular incident, too. He’d been manning the apothecary the morning his brother’s mate had practically bolted inside in the pre-dawn, looking for a very specific thing.

            Oh, Matthew very much didn’t want to think of why his brother’s mate had requested a vial of that _particular_ bubble bath. Nor did he want to think on why said mate had looked so ill and guilty.

            Or what his father had made of it when he’d been informed as to why he’d seen Ivan walk out of the store so quickly without stopping to say hello. Which, obviously, had been playing on his mind if he was so ready to voice his concern about it.

            “We’re not supposed to speak with them in the first place,” Francis reminded him, gentle but with steel in his tongue, and Matthew watched his father glare back at the elder wolf stubbornly, unapologetic.

            He sighed.

            There was a knock on the door. His father stilled, his _papa_ froze, a reprimand still on his tongue, and Matthew got up and unlocked to door.

            And there he was, a lopsided, somewhat wistful grin on his face, eyes bright and clear; every inch the fiery, challenging, little terror of a little brother he’d left behind last solstice night.

            And then he said, “You could hear dad pacing from the driveway,” a wry grin crossing his face, “Do ya think he’s gonna regret inviting me over for the weekend Mattie?”

            “Not on your life,” he replied easily, tugging his brother into a solid hug, stealthily memorizing his scent – a hint of summer’s warmth amidst a spring rain shower, now wrapped in Ivan’s crisp hint of ice and fir – and letting the warmth seep back into his bones.

            All teasing aside, he’d sorely missed his little brother.

            Moments later, they separated, and grinned at each other – near perfect mirrors despite their age difference – as they heard Francis call in, “Let your brother in, _mon fis_ , I’ll not have either of you letting in this awful cold!” He slung an arm around his brother, dragging the other inside, and Alfred kicked the door shut easily enough.

            That action alone eased a great deal of his worries. If he’d been injured – especially like _that_ – he wouldn’t have been able to pull that off as fluidly as he had. And by the way he could see his father’s tension easing out of his shoulders, the other man knew that too.

            “Ack! _Papa_ , get off of me!” he blinked, wondering when his _papa_ had managed to wrestle his brother from him, and how he hadn’t noticed when it had happened.

            “Francis,” their father interrupted after a few minutes of flailing, “give the boy his space.” _Papa_ threw his mate a reluctant pout, but nodded and stepped away from their youngest son.

            Arthur Kirkland stared at his youngest son for what felt like forever. Alfred was watching their father with an odd look on his face. There was an almost inscrutable quality to his brother’s face, Matthew noted; only a hint of lingering upset and vulnerability seemed to breath through the near-stoic façade the youngest blond wore so easily.

            And then, Alfred walked right up to their father and wrapped him in one of his all encompassing hugs. He saw Arthur startle, before returning the hug almost desperately. Which, to be honest, was not as much a surprise as it would’ve been to another person.

            Matthew knew that their parents loved them both equally. That was something he could never doubt. But his parents showed affection differently, and the moment Arthur – who’d been thought to be a submissive despite his clearly dominant leanings by his brothers – realized that Alfred had been natured a _submissive_ , had thrown himself into training Alfred specifically in how to adjust to the radical change in the way people behaved towards him. Suddenly, almost all his available free time was devoted to teaching the youngest of the Kirkland clan how to outwit, outsmart, and outrun dominants determined to get a hand on him. In fact, part of the mile-long stubborn streak his brother had seemingly come out of the womb with had its origins in the ruthlessly efficient training their father had given him.

            But at the time Alfred had natured, the teenage dominant Matthew had been had seen his father’s constant attempt to spend time with Alfred as a sign that he wasn’t loved as much. So, he began to ignore his father, too insecure and not quite vocal enough or confrontational enough to bring the issue before the man himself. Between the two of them and their issues, they’d wallowed in their uncertainties for almost two years.

            It had taken a newly 13-year-old and increasingly terrifying Alfred to bring the cranky 17-year-old and their father back into a form of accord. He’d barged into Matt’s room one day, dragging him into a trick closet he’d purposely set up so that only he could open, before returning a few minutes later and shoving their father into the small closet space.

            They’d both sorted out their issues while they’d been trapped in the closet – something they’d sworn never to speak of ever again – and moved on to discuss how utterly terrifying Alfred was growing to be. It was, of course, at that point that Alfred popped the door open, leaning against the doorjamb, and accepted the comment with a wicked grin scrawled across his face. Apparently, not only had his little brother locked them both in a specifically engineered closet, he’d also bugged the entire thing with listening devices he’d made out of their spare, worn out tech.

            His little brother had been terrifying even as a bratty, pre-teen submissive, and he would be willing to fight anyone who dared say a thing to contradict that. Even so, it was only the smallest indicator of what his baby brother had the potential to turn into in the future.

            But, as a result of nearly two years at a distance, his father had often felt closer to Alfred, and certainly empathized with him far more than Matthew was ever able to.

            Simply the thought of Alfred never trusting him again had sent the normally immovable, unyielding wolf into unquenchable hysterics. He hoped to dear mother moon that he would never see what would happen if that should ever come to pass.

            The green-eyed wolf finally released the blue-eyed blond, and Alfred grinned at them all, beaming in his usual infectious way, and Matthew felt something knotted deep in his heart ease at the sight.

* * *

           “Alfred?” the murmur of his name caught his attention, and he straightened from where he’d been unpacking his things. Matthew was relaxing against the door, but he could see the twitch in his brother’s ears, and knew he was listening closely for anyone wandering around this late. “Do you have a minute?”

            “Not like I’m doing anything important, Matt,” he said wryly, plopping down on his bed and grinning at his brother. “What’s up?”

            Matthew smiled, walking into the room and settling into his desk chair by the front wall of his room. He tried to ignore how Matthew was studying him from top to bottom, searching for _something_ , and made himself comfortable on mattress. He bit back a delighted sigh as he relaxed into the familiar comfort; even though the bed Ivan had bought for them was bigger than even his parents’ bed, and twice as comfortable, his own bed brought him a great deal of comfort.

            “You’re still the same as ever,” his brother said to him suddenly, and there was a hint of awe in his voice even as his eyes warmed.

            He raised a brow, “Did you expect me to be different?”

            Matthew reclined back into the chair, sighing, “I’m not gonna lie to you, Al. I wasn’t sure what would happen when you mated, _especially_ not with one of the elders’ favorite picks as your part two.” Alfred bit his lip as Matthew’s eyes narrowed, his gaze intensifying, “And it didn’t help that your mate turned up at the apothecary last week, looking for Dad’s _special_ bubble bath and a healing balm, with the most unbearably _guilty_ expression on his face.”

            He felt the heat bubble in his face, knowing he was probably as red as a tomato. Well, at least it hadn’t been his father who’d seen _that_ particular purchase.

            “We’ve had some issues,” he admitted reluctantly, “but it’s not bad. It could be a lot worse. He’s very considerate, Mattie,” and he could feel the smile touching his lips, knowing his brother would see the truth in it, “And he’s trying to understand me instead of control me.” He bit his lip, wondering if he should tell his brother about what had happened last week before dismissing the thought. Not yet, at least, he decided. His brother was still sitting tensely, and anything he said would make Matthew worry.

            “But he’s good?” his brother asked, a determined glint in his eye that told him that if Ivan wasn’t, he’d do everything he could to get him away from the elder dominant, screw tradition, and he felt his heart warm.

            “He actually _respects_ me, Mattie,” he murmured, and his brother finally moved over to the bed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, smiling as they curled closer together. “He’s good.”

            “That’s good,” Matthew said warmly, and smiled.  And for now, that was all that needed to be said.


	4. The Consequences of Chocolate Addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which werewolves are all unanimously addicted to chocolate, and you do NOT clean out their stash. Nope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration behind most of the conversation in this chapter goes to @usagi323, whose tag I still cannot figure out. You are wonderful hun ^^!

            “IVAN!” he heard his mate shout from inside the kitchen, and froze from where he was reclining on the sofa. He threw his mind into his memories, searching for anything that would provoke the outraged shout and the stomping that indicated his mate was _livid_ –

            _Oh_. Damn, he thought he’d hidden the wrappers.

            “ _Dorogoy_ ,” he said warmly, trying – and failing – to hide the anxiety in his smile. “What has you so upset -?”

            “My CHOCOLATE! _”_ his mate almost screeched at him – wow, he didn’t realize the younger wolf could hit that kind of a range – wait, what was his mate saying, “You ate ALL OF MY CHOCOLATE!”

            “…we’re _married_ ,” he deadpanned after a pause, watching the younger smolder in his anger, eyeing the fire glowing forebodingly in his mate’s eyes with a level of growing concern, “whatever is mine is yours, and whatever is yours is mine.”

            “ _Funny_ ,” his mate snarled, “that you say that _after_ you devoured my _entire chocolate stash_. Oh, and _after_ you hid your own stash when I found it last week.”

            “That has nothing to do with it,” Ivan said unconvincingly.

            “My _whole stash_ ,” Alfred choked, gazing at the pile of empty chocolate boxes and wrappers he’d uncovered in the kitchen, and Ivan could swear he saw his mate’s eyes glaze over with a watery sheen. Then, his blue-eyed mate whirled around and made for their bedroom, slamming the door behind him. The click of the lock was deafening in the silence his mate had left in his wake.

            Not that it would stop Ivan from getting to him if he wanted to.

            The pale-haired dominant stretched languidly, not paying too much attention to the noise of his mate moving around frantically inside their room, and stood. He meandered over to the locked door, shoving the door open casually, almost shattering the lock as he did so.

            “ – come get me, please, Dad?” his ears caught the tail end of his mate’s pleading, and he paused, leaning against the bedpost as he watched his mate near the bay window, ignoring the cozy seat in favor of his furious pacing, “He’s being unbearable!”

            “What’s wrong, dear heart?” he heard his father-in-law’s voice come through, worry coating his tone, and felt his lips quirk.

            “He ate my whole fucking stash, Dad,” his mate hiccupped, and he bit back his cackling laughter, “ALL OF IT! He ate it without asking! It was a month’s salary worth of chocolate, Daddy – gourmet brands and all! And he ate the entire fucking thing!”

            He couldn’t hold back his laughter at this point, and his mate jumped when he let lose a full-throated cackle, but didn’t hold back in shooting him a vicious glare.

            “Fuck you, you hairy bastard,” Alfred hissed at him, twisting the mouthpiece of the phone away from his lips, glaring at him viciously, “that was _my chocolate_.”

            There was an aggressive sigh on the other end of the phone, a soft murmured, “ _Oh god, it’s genetic_ ,” before the only thing heard ringing through the room was the dial tone.

            “Dad??” his mate asked, startled, “Daaaaaad? Don’t hang up on me!” he shouted at the empty phone line, and Ivan couldn’t resist the laughter that burbled up in his throat.

            His mate stared at him for a bit, and then he huffed, glancing back to the phone in his hand, “Well fuck you too, thank you.”

            Ivan snorted, “That’s _my_ job, darling – to fuck _you_.”

            He proceeded to dodge the cordless plastic phone, which dented when it hit the wall on the other side of the room. He fled the room, cackling, as his mate started hurling things at him in the process. He _should_ feel bad, honestly. His mate couldn’t work within their community – there was _such_ a negative stigma surrounding working submissives, and he wouldn’t let his mate subject himself to that, even if he’d wanted to – and thinking of how much those wonderful (delicious, mouth-watering, irresistible) chocolates must’ve cut into his mate’s savings made him upset. But it was _chocolate_.

            The shouting stopped for a second, and he stilled. He glanced over his shoulder for a split-second, and caught sight of the way the contemplative look on his mate’s shoulders had melted into something smug, a smirk curling on his lips.

            “Bastard,” he cooed, “guess who’s sleeping on the couch tonight?”

            “The door’s busted, and the lock’s broken,” the Russian drawled, unimpressed. “You have no way of making me sleep on the couch.”

            Surprisingly, Alfred only nodded. But the smirk tugging on his lips was growing wider, and he felt a sudden gush of anxiety at the sight of it. “Very true,” his cunning little mate conceded, “I guess you’ll just have to go without tonight.”

            No sex? He wanted to wince, but he was stronger than that. He could last a few days – it would take that long to convince his mate to let him back into that sweet, warm embrace – maybe even a week! He wasn’t a dominant that was completely ruled by the whims of his co – why was Alfred still smirking? Why was that smirk growing _bigger_?

            “It wouldn’t be fair, after all,” his mate’s smirk was starting to worry him, “to make you sleep on the couch. You’re leaving for the hunting trip in a few days aren’t you?” _The…hunting trip?_ “Weeks of sleeping on the forest floors or in tents or trees – it wouldn’t be fair at all.” His mate’s grin was wicked. Wait a second…

            That hunting trip was three weeks long. He knew that, he’d planned for it – including planning a very nice evening out (followed by a very _passionate_ evening in) with his mate – and he’d been very aware of his upcoming departure. But…

            _No sex_. For _three weeks_. That was bad enough in itself – especially given how werewolves on the whole were very sexual creatures (he couldn’t count how many times he’d heard other dominants jacking off in the woods; fortunately, he had more control than resorting to _that_ ) – but…his mate was annoyed with him _now_. A week _before_ the trip.

            Did he have the control to resist his mate’s implicit threat of no sex for what would essentially be a full month? Yes, he did. Did he _want to_? No way in hell.

            Alfred grinned, and he could almost _see_ the malice in those baby blues peering up at him, “Well,” he smiled, and Ivan felt his wolf whimper, “they _do_ say that chocolate is better than sex, right? And you’ve just had _so much._ We wouldn’t want to… _over do it_ , hmm?”

            _Fuck._ He was so fucked.

* * *

           Over the course of the next few days, all the chocolate shops in non-werewolf populated towns – who tended to have better prices than most werewolf pack villages – reported that they’d sold out of their better quality, gourmet chocolates to whomever came in search of them. Apparently, some distressed looking Russian had come in and bought out their entire stock, across several of the small towns, and no one knew why.

            Incidentally, the day before Ivan was due to leave for his hunting trip, he was jumped by his ecstatic mate who’d discovered the fridge full of chocolate he’d hidden in the garage, in order to replace the stash Ivan had eaten, several times over.

            If he showed up for the trip looking a little too smug, too happy in the predawn gloom, and smelling a _little_ too much of chocolate and sex, well….

            No one was brave enough to comment on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ivan.  
> If you liked this one, please keep your eye out for Chocolate Wars! (That's the title for now, subject to change) It's the precursor to the wide-spread acknowledgement that weres loved their chocolate, and would probably go to war against anyone who stole it from them. Also - ever wondered what Arthur meant by "Oh god, it's genetic"?


	5. Magic and the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of the first werewolf and the founder of the Kirkland line - and why that makes Alfred and his family so important.

            The first Kirkland was a lovely young woman, fae and beautiful in an ethereal way, and one of the most powerful healers in the world. She was magic and might and power, but she knew her limits and dared not leave the Isles to pursue further skills, when she knew the world was not as kind to her as her own home and her own goddesses.

            The first werewolf was a child of the Northern lands, with hair fairer than gold and eyes that gleamed the same color as the endless sea, and he sought a mate who could match him. His mother was a priestess of moon and his father a mortal trader who’d cared for her and taught their son his trade. He’d heard of the beautiful healer who was canny and smart and powerful unlike any other, and traversed the seas to meet her and seek her wisdom.

            The enchanting red haired lass had eyes as green as the forests that loved her, and the fae whispered in her ears secrets of the moon-blessed lad who sought her knowledge and her hand. They cautioned her of his daring, of his arrogance, but they whispered to her of his worthiness, his strength and his kindness. She took the words to her heart, and watched the shores of her beloved Isle day after day, asking the stars to whisper to her should they see something in the darkness of night that stole her sight. And one day, after nearly a fortnight of careful observation, she saw him. The sun gleamed off of the fair straw of his hair, and the strength of the ocean roared in his eyes, even as the moon’s blessing hummed around him, wrapped snugly around his soul. And so, she’d made her decision.

            But just as she’d seen him, the werewolf had seen her.

            Red gleamed in the sun, like spilled blood and autumn leaves, green eyes glinting with magic and mischief, she smiled at the man, and whirled around, disappearing into the forest that would shelter her. And invitation and a challenge, if he chose to accept it.

            He leapt into the ocean hours later, with the moon drawn high, the currents of the sea propelling him to shore hours before he would’ve arrived on the ship. Her scent intoxicated him, filling his veins with a fire that could not be sated, and suddenly, he saw the trail she’d left behind in her laughing retreat.

            The moon that had blessed him enhanced his senses, and suddenly it was impossible to miss her. The wind brought him echoes of her laughter – enticing and mocking all the same – and he followed the trail as far as his legs could take him. The forest was not kind to him, however, and he found himself tripped up by trees, moving plants and vines, and the sight of animals grinning at him maliciously in a way no creature should be able to. The red-haired woman had woven her magic around the forest, and the forest had intertwined its essence in her own, he realized then. It shielded her from his blessed senses, and it veiled her from any sight, protectively. And suddenly, the thrill of the chase shot down his spine and he let his instincts take him over with a grin.

            The howl he let loose rose to the moon, tribute to the path she’d gifted him with.

            Miles from him, in the darkness of the forest she’d traversed since her toddling days, she heard the howl that echoed around her. She grinned, wrapping her magic around her scent, blocking it from the wind’s meddling and entwining it with the forest’s own. If he would catch her, it would be on his own merits and his own strengths – she would never allow one with less skill than she to share a right to her heart. And so, drawing on the strength of the forest and of her own magic, she ran.

            She led him on a merry chase for seven days and seven nights, trailing hints and weaving magic all about her so he never quite lost the scent but never came close enough to catch her. But he had become wise to her tricks and her traps, and the forest grew fond of him the longer he spent desperate to see her, even if she rejected his proposal. As the witching hour drew nearer, she slipped from the forest towards the ritual circle she’d been running towards, watching as the moonlight cast a glow on the towering columns and the gathering of people who’d migrated there for the night it was.

            She’d led him to the Solstice gathering.

            Sure enough, after waiting only a matter of hours as the night drew longer, she heard the rustling of the woods, and the whispers on the wind of her man who sought her arriving behind her. She could hear the ragged breathing that had yet to steady, but the confident strides that wandered to her side. And only when she felt him draw level to her, did she turn to study the young man who’d chased her across her entire Isle as she’d drawn strength from her goddesses who’d given her magic, and the land that had sheltered her from his piercing gaze.

            She looked to him, and he looked to her, and they saw fire, magic, and the passion in each other’s gazes. She smiled at him, and stepped back, arms spreading out and whirling fluidly. Magic wrapped around them elegantly, golden wreaths of warmth, entrancing the young child of the Moon, and the flames around the ritual circle flared in warmth and acknowledgement before the magic reached to embrace him.

            And, wrapped in the warmth of the woman he wished to take as wife, he finally understood what she’d wished to convey.

            They mated under the dawning solstice sky, letting the warmth and the magic swirl around them as the moon and sun shared their children’s joy and spread it to all the lands their rays touched.

            He remained with her on her beautiful Isle for as long as she wished him to. She taught him the secrets of her forests, how to listen to the whispers of the fae that loved her, and in return, he brought her secrets from lands she’d never known. He would have brought her gold and glitter and shining things, but she cared for none of it. So, instead, he brought her knowledge and love and laughter. He would have taken her to the farthest reaches of the lands she wished to see, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her Isles.

            They had two beautiful children – a young son who inherited his mother’s magic and his father’s looks, and a young daughter who wielded her father’s blessing and her mother’s laughing eyes – and soon fell to the ravages of time as their children grew and had children of their own. Their daughter, their beautiful, fiery, strong-hearted daughter took her mother’s name and wielded it like the weapon she had honed herself to be. She blessed her children with the name, and though they loved her dearly, not a single one of her mates dared question her will. Their strong son cast away his surname, though he loved his mother dearly, embracing the land’s claim on him and his magic, and his line followed suit, fading into the wilds of the Isle that would shield them from those who would seek to deal them harm.

            And in the end, when death came to claim the first mated pair, the smiled at the cloaked form and fell into their next adventure together, happy for the legacy they’d left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names and info Important for the series:
> 
> Lady Rhian: the first Kirkland, the young woman in the tale who married the first werewolf.  
> Calynn Kirkland: the first Kirkland werewolf, whose line spawned the Kirkland family.  
> Arian: Calynn's brother, a Mage and the first submissive in the werewolf world; he cast off his last name to take on the role his mother had once - of mage and healer and guardian.


End file.
